"He's your friend?"
Lil couldn't understand, looking at Chang, as he lifted Cornell up.
"Let go, you're just a piece of sh**."
Cornell's language wasn't clean.
After all, no one stays calm when they've been attacked, but his subsequent words stopped abruptly when he saw Lil's massive chest muscles.
With what he thought was a friendly, grimace-smile, Lil eagerly stared at the black nugget in his hand.
"Go on, keep talking. I really like your mouth."
Lil even leered and gestured with his hips.
He was looking forward to Cornell continuing his reckless behavior.
Cornell, who was already labeled as a 'nugget,' was foolish, not stupid. He knew he had stirred up big trouble.
A man who was over six and a half feet tall, weighing at least three hundred pounds, with muscles all over, and a fierce face, saying, 'I like your mouth.'
That was more terrifying than any American horror story.
"Sir, I'm Chan, save me. We're friends, yeah, we're good homies!"
For his own innocence, Cornell hurriedly sought help from Chang.
Lil wasn't a pushover. He shook the 'nugget' in his hand and said to Chang, "Chan, we're friends too, but your friend has offended me. What do you think I should do?"
Headache.
Chang only felt a headache.
Cornell was his plan B for his MCN company, and he could sense the sincerity of this black nugget from the hundreds of messages he had received.
Lil wasn't his subordinate; he was employed by Eris. Chang couldn't directly command him.
With a sigh, Chang stepped forward and pried Lil's hand open.
"Lil, I'll treat you to a drink another day. Don't waste time with an idiot like him. I'll scold him thoroughly later."
Hearing himself being called an idiot, Cornell wanted to continue arguing, but Lil's massive chest muscles were still pressed against his face, and the black nugget couldn't help but feel intimidated.
He was genuinely scared.
"Alright, if this black kid gives you trouble again, just give me a call."
Patting Cornell's shoulder heavily, Lil bid farewell to Chang.
As he left, the big man made a gesture of wiping his head at Cornell.
Sending off his newly made macho friend, Chang sighed helplessly.
"Cornell, I don't understand why you go crazy every time you see me. If you were a bit more normal, Lil wouldn't have misunderstood you. And the things you said, weren't they asking for trouble? Do you know what he does? If I hadn't been here today, you'd have been sleeping with the fishes!"
Cornell hadn't fully recovered from the shock just now, and Chang's rapid-fire questions left him dazed.
After thinking for a long time, the black nugget replied, "I want to learn Kung Fu, Chinese Kung Fu!"
Which boy didn't have a martial arts dream?
After such a scare, Cornell still didn't forget the purpose of meeting Chang.
From his actions, one could say he hadn't forgotten his original intention!
"Alright, I can teach you Chinese Kung Fu."
Chang's arrangement for Plan B was to let Cornell cause mischief.
This black nugget's mind was apparently a top-notch model, abstract to the core.
He was the epitome of natural abstractness.
He was convinced that Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan could have a child together.
This kind of talent was perfect for the internet.
Even without Chang, Cornell could become an internet sensation with his profound knowledge of lead candy (America had similar ones, dumb influencers, quite amusing, haha).
"Did you really agree?"
"Why not?"
"I watched Chinese movies. To learn Kung Fu, you need to bow to your master, right? And don't you have to kowtow to your master?"
"Are you sure you want to kowtow?"
"Of course, the movies say that kowtowing helps you learn real Kung Fu! I want to learn real Kung Fu from you!"
"Alright, wait a moment, let me open the camera."
America's multiculturalism meant that this land of freedom held infinite possibilities.
Anything you can think of, or can't think of, can happen here.
Thus, on this afternoon in St. Lodon, the homeless people on Red Street witnessed a strange sight born from human diversity and American multiculturalism.
A black man, kneeling firmly and devoutly.
His target for kowtowing was an Asian. This black man kowtowed three times to a yellow-skinned Asian!
Bang!
"Stop!"
Bang!!
"Stop!!"
Bang!!!
"Wake up, what's wrong with you fainting!!! F**K!!!"
When Cornell woke up, he saw Chang's worried face, panting heavily.
Seeing his 'master' so concerned about him, Cornell felt that his three bangs hadn't been in vain.
Chang's expression wasn't worried; it was the expression of someone who had just narrowly escaped disaster!
Just a second before Cornell woke up, he had almost given him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!
Thinking that his first kiss in this lifetime had almost been stolen by Cornell, Chang couldn't help but feel disgusted.
He wished he could go on Taobao and buy a manual on the Art of Self-Castration and teach it to Cornell fiercely.
"Why did you kowtow so hard?"
Dozens of homeless people had gathered around the two, pointing and whispering.
Not because they loved watching the show, but because Cornell's performance today, in the place where talent abounds on Red Street, could be considered groundbreaking!
Ignoring the onlookers, Chang just wanted to ask the question in his heart.
"I watched a movie that said the louder the kowtow, the more real Kung Fu you could learn."
His sincerity was as deafening as his kowtow.
Chang considered himself a sincere person, too.
So, he carefully examined the idiot lying on the ground.
Cornell had a wound on his head, and blood was faintly seeping out.
This was the result of cell damage and capillary rupture caused by the compression of human tissue.
Fortunately, the forehead didn't have major blood vessels, so Cornell wasn't bleeding much.
As for whether such mechanical damage would affect Cornell's brain and intelligence, and therefore his intellect, Chang didn't need to worry.
He had hit rock bottom; nothing could make it worse.
The black nugget, who was earnestly learning Kung Fu, looked at Chang expectantly, but Chang didn't answer him directly.
Seeing his master staring at his forehead, Cornell smiled.
"I'm fine. It's normal to bleed from kowtowing too hard. The actors in the movies bleed too."
Idiot, that's special effects, that's prop blood!
Chang stood up and reached out, gesturing for Cornell to stand up.
"What's your full name?"
"Cornell Dick."
"Your last name is really Dick?"
"My dad's last name is this, and we both don't like it, but it's really my last name."
"Alright."
It made sense; after all, he was the natural-born abstract saint.
His last name was Dick, and the heavens must have been stuffing him, right?